The 64th Games: The SYOT
by makerboy13
Summary: Welcome to the 64th annual Hunger Games! The rules are simple: 24 Tributes go in, and only 1 comes out... Alive, that is. The question is: will it be YOURS? Co-authored with littlekad16. *CLOSED* All tribute spots are taken. Thanks to everyone who submitted Tributes! Now, on to the show! I don't own the rights to the Hunger Games, only physical copies of the series...
1. Intro

**Welcome, welcome, welcome! Happy Hunger Games! Now, as one may tell, this is an SYOT! The tribute form is on my profile, so go on ahead and fill 'er out. Go on, I'll wait for you. *pauses* Okay, you're back. Good. Back to the announcement. So, just so y'all know, I'm not the only one writing this bad boy. My good friend littlekad16 is my co-author. (I DO know her personally, and honestly, we couldn't be more excited to do this!) So here's the rules: 1. ABSOLUETELY NO MARY-SUES! Any Mary-Sues will be fed to mutts before the Games start. 2. Only submit tributes via PM. Sorry, guests, but we don't take review submissions. Sorry. 3. Don't expect updates every day. We're busy and have lives beyond fanfiction (although it's not **_**nearly**_** as exciting at times.)! So, due to the rules, I have to put on an intro. I planned on it anyway, so without further ado (whatever ado is), heeeeeeere's the story!**

_SLAM!_ A heavy wooden door smacked the wall in the Head Gamemaker's office.

"CRANE!" came the voice of a man. He sounded angry-and this was not a man to get angry. "Explain yourself!" The man in question gripped the arms of his chair, gathering his nerve.

"Well, sir, the arena… It's not quite ready." Ottawa Crane swallowed, nervous of the reply.

"And that is why?" asked Snow coolly, standing over the man in the chair. His eyes locked onto Crane's, something that was terrifying to Crane, and Snow knew it. You didn't become the ruler of Panem for being Mr. Nice Guy. Oh no, you played rough. Got your hands dirty. And sometimes got rid of those pesky imbeciles that stood in your way. Crane cleared his throat.

"Just some technical issues, sir, nothing that we can't fix in a few days-"

"A few days? A few days, you said? Normally, that wouldn't bother me. But do you know what tomorrow is?" asked the President, leaning in towards Crane.

"Reaping Day, sir," Crane replied, starting to sweat a bit.

"Yes, Reaping Day. But it is also the day that we assert authority over our people. This is the day that they fear the most. Yes, the people in some of the Districts look forward to these Games, but that doesn't mean they don't fear them." He paused for a moment, allowing his words to rattle around Crane's skull. The scent of roses filled Crane's nose, and recoiled slightly at it. Snow continued. "We assert our authority to keep the people at bay. Controllable. Under my thumb. This how we keep order, here in Panem. It's the only way. If we release our grip-just a little bit, mind you-and everything fails. And you know why that can't happen." He paused again, allowing Crane to nod in reply. "And if we can't even put together a simple arena," he said, his voice rising, "then what does that tell the people?"

"Th-that we're w-weak," Crane replied shakily. He was sweating a lot now.

"Exactly. And that simply cannot be allowed. So fix it. You have by the end of today." Snow stood up.

"Yes sir, President Snow," Crane answered.

"Good," Snow replied coldly. He turned to walk out. "Oh, and if you fail? Don't expect your precious _son_ to have a father to guide him when takes over," he said poisonously, holding out the word 'son' to emphasize his point. Without waiting for a reply, he left.

"Yes, sir," Crane said to the empty room. The scent of roses lingered in the air.


	2. Tribute List

**Hello! So, here's the Tribute list! That's all, folks! We are full and ready to go, people! Thank you SO MUCH for all these wonderful Tributes. It will be so much fun and an honor to write their sad stories, all woven together by a horrible thing called the Hunger Games.**

D1 Male: Glacion Mallard [xxxRimaxxx]

D1 Female: Jemima Louisa Colemore [Rosemarie Benson]

D2 Male: Cas Mason [mspadfoots]

D2 Female: Vivian Lewis [GirlOnFire4]

D3 Male: Maurice Greyson. [ .566]

D3 Female: Eliza Huntington [Fuzzycat901]

D4 Male: Jaspróe Kings [ .566]

D4 Female: Melody Oceana [angelofmusic4ever]

D5 Male: Alister Rain [Mindnight Ink]

D5 Female: Talon Verndari [Mindnight Ink]

D6 Male: Speed Parker [jaffacakesyumm]

D6 Female: Misha "Ghost" Parker [jaffacakesyumm]

D7 Male: Naton Dragash [tasherekalb]

D7 Female: Tanberry Fern [xxxRimaxxx]

D8 Male: Hale Ludite [Notthegovernment]

D8 Female: Malorie Otero [Tigergirl22]

D9 Male: Seth Blake [tasherekalb]

D9 Female: Scarlett Flynn [GirlOnFire4]

D10 Male: Kain Kismet [rillusin]

D10 Female: Chamolie Wood [ ]

D11 Male: Mandell Maize

D11 Female: Amazon Arc [Evie192000]

D12 Male: Jax Albright [GirlOnFire4]

D12 Female: Rosaline Price [mspadfoots]


	3. Interlude 1: The Mary-Sue

**Hello! Now, this chapter was **_**supposed**_** to tell y'all about the sponsorship system. But since littlekad16 and I have not yet been able to discuss this, here's a small story to entertain you! WARNING: there will be violence in this chapter. This IS Panem, and this IS a Hunger Games fic, after all, so it's to be expected. Enjoy…**

Somewhere in the Capitol, in a dark room, there was a girl shackled to a wall. This girl was very pretty, so pretty in fact that people had look at her blindfolded, or else they'd fall in love with her and set her free. This, of course, was unacceptable, so President Snow decided to lock her up good this time. She had escaped once before-she wasn't getting away again.

This was Maryanne Suzanthony Vollins Myer Wolf Sunbeam, of District 13. Yes, the Capitol had said it would leave the District alone, but it happened to find her strolling about the ruins. Snow had decided to train her for the Hunger Games as the PERFECT tribute, but she escaped. Having found her again, he had decided to "dispose" of her. And after having to deal with Ottawa Crane, he was in the mood for disposing. He entered the dark room and turned on a light.

"What do you want, Mr. Snow?" she asked cheerily, despite hating the man who had beat her when she was young.

"I just came to say hello, my dear," Snow said, putting fake happiness into his voice. It disgusted him. "I also came to say that you'll be released from the shackles today."

"Really!?" asked the sweet girl excitedly.

"Yes. And, to make sure you'll 'cooperate' with us, we've decided to give you some pets to play with. You will, of course, be under remote guard. We'll be watching you. But you'll be comfortable as long as you listen." The girl squealed with joy.

"Oh, thank you mister Snow! I promise I'll be good!" she said. _I'll listen for a while, but I'll get out again. Soon, _she thought.

"Goodbye, Maryanne," Snow said. It would be the last time they spoke. He left the room, locking the door. Shortly afterwards, Maryanne's shackles opened and she fell to the ground. She lay there, rubbing her wrists. Then, a light unseen glowed red on the wall, and underneath several large dogs came in through. Their tongues were hanging out, panting.

"DOGGIES! Here, doggies!" called Maryanne kindly. The dogs turned to look at her, and ran at her. The tackled, sniffed, and licked her, causing her to laugh. Then one of the dogs bit her leg, and she kicked it. "Bad dog! No biting!" she scolded. The dog retreated, growling. The other dogs started growling too, and stopped licking her. They got off and surrounded her like she was prey.

"Doggies? What are you-" she started to say, but she never finished the sentence. Without warning, the small pack leaped onto her, this time with claws and teeth bared.

"AAAAAAAAGGGGGHHHH!" she screamed shrilly. Behind a one-way window, several Gamemakers recoiled at the blood. One spoke up.

"Sir, are these to be used in the Arena? This seems a little much, even for a mutated beast."

"No, we're still working on them. We'll probably perfect them in about ten years," another replied. A bloodcurdling scream reverberated from the other side of the glass. Maryanne was missing a lot of flesh, and losing a lot of blood.

"Please, help me! Someone!" she screamed.

"Ten years? Isn't that a little long?"

"I suppose, but we're trying to perfect the eyes. Our goal is to make them look human, to mess with the Tributes." The screaming stopped.

"I like it, whose idea was it?"

"You know the Head Gamemaker, Ottawa Crane? His son, Seneca. The kid's got a knack for this. He'll be a great Head Gamemaker someday." A voice came on through a PA system. It was President Snow.

"Is it over with?"

"Yes, President Snow," the two Gamemakers replied.

"Good. Send me the video and make sure you clean the room. And make it quick-you two need to help Crane. He has a… project he need finished by today."


	4. The Sponsorship System

**Hello everybody! We're so excited to see how quickly the Tribute spaces have been taken up. It's honestly a lot faster than we had anticipated, so thanks again! And now, here is what we've been working on… The Sponsorship System! Yay! Now, how this works (if you don't already know) is that you guys, the character submitters, will have 'points' to use on supplies, weapons, and the like to send to your Tribute(s) when they are in the Arena. There's a couple rules, too. First, you can only spend points when Tributes are in the Arena. No pre-Game gifts, meaning your Tribute won't be getting any tridents and bossing it up Finnick Odair-style. Secondly, there will a point where points will no longer be given out. We'll make it obvious when you can't earn any more. That said, here's what you can "buy" and how you can earn points to "buy" it:**

Small bread package (3 slices of stale bread, 2 biscuits)-3 points

Water bottle (1, half-filled)-3 points

Warm bowl of soup/warm bowl of stew-5 points

Small supply kit (contains a box of 8 matches, a large empty water bottle [2x size of normal bottle], several bandages, and 1-use insect repellent, all in a backpack)-6 points

Small medical kit (several bandages, burn cream, insect bite/sting relief, a hot pad, and a cold pad)-6 points

Pocketknife-6 points

Rope (up to 20 feet)-1 point for 2 feet [Note: for a longer piece, you must spend points at one time]

Fresh meat (your choice of animal)-6 points for half a pound (.27 kilograms) bulk, 10 points for one pound (.45 kilograms), or 3 points for 5 slices

Regular bread package (6 slices of fresh bread, 6 biscuits, a small container of butter, and a butter knife)-8 points

Medium supply kit (20 matches, a full large water bottle, a larger amount of bandages, gauze, a small can of insect repellent, sunscreen, and 6 feet of rope)-10 points

Medium medical kit (more bandages, a small tube of future equivalent of Neosporin, larger amounts of burn cream, 2 hot pads, 2 cool pads, a larger amount of insect bite/sting relief, pain reliever, and nausea relief, all in a larger backpack)- 11 points

Sleeping bag/waterproof jacket set-10 points

Dagger-10 points

Small weapon (throwing knives kit, whip, club w/spikes, small sword w/sheath)-14 points. Each.

Large weapon (Axe, spear, scythe, large sword w/sheath, bow and arrow w/quiver, trident w/net)-19 points each

Throwing knife/arrow refill (MUST already have throwing knives or bow and arrows, either through luck in finding or via sponsorship gifts)-5 points

Note to Tribute from Mentor/You-1 point (everyone gets 1 free note to start with. Using these to give them advice or give a morale boost is recommended!)

**How to EARN points! (NOTE: everyone gets 10 points to start, and gets 3 points for a tribute)**

Post a short, simple review (1 per chapter, longer than "great" or "awesome"-please be at least a sentence! 1 or 2 word reviews will NOT count.)-1 point

Post a longer, more detailed review (We will decide what is "detailed" and what is simple. Detailed is longer, paragraph-length reviews with constructive criticism, advice, or telling what you really liked and why, etc. You get what we mean.)

PM Arena/mutt ideas*-3 to 5 points (depends on how detailed you are or how much we like it!)

We incorporate your Arena/mutt in some way-4 points

Send a bloodbath tribute (only 1 per person, and not allowed if you have 2 tributes-Sorry!)-6 points instead of the Tribute submission points

Be the first person to answer correctly the bonus points question-X points (value will be determined on the question difficulty)

Be awesome-X points (this is up to our discretion-there is NO way to influence by asking)

**Current List of Points (Note: we will TRY our hardest to keep track of points, but you should also keep track of your own points) **(Names with *'s represent a period. The site disables periods, as it thinks it is a website address. Sorry!)

Rosemarie Benson-13

jaffacakesyumm-16

angelofmusic4ever-13

diana*reynolds*566-13

Lol*WhySoSerious-13

Notthegovernment-25

Rilliusin-13

Evie192000-13

Mindnight Ink-16

xxxRimaxxx-16

GirlOnFire4-16

tasherekalb-13

mspadfoots-16

Tigergirl22-13

**If you have any questions or concerns, PM makerboy13 (me)**

**Lastly, if your Tribute(s) die before you exhaust your points, you have two options: 1, use your remaining points on another Tribute, or 2, give your points to another person. This option can be done at any time, and is NOT REVERSABLE.**

**See you all at the District 1 Reapings!**

**-makerboy13 and littlekad16 **

Here's a joke as a reward for reading through all of that:

Two sausages were frying in a pan. One sausage says, "Man, it's hot in here."

The other sausage says, "Holy crap! A talking sausage!"

And here's another:

Frick, Frack, and DooDah were fishing on a lake. A wave hits the boat, and DooDah falls into the lake and drowns. Frick says to Frack, "Oh no! What are we going to do?" Frack says, "I-I-I don't kn-know." Frick says, "Well, we gotta tell his wife. You get to." Frack argues, "B-b-but I st-st-stutter!" "Well, Mel Tillis stutters, but man, can he sing!" Frack agrees, and they get back to shore. Half an hour later, they arrive at DooDah's house. DooDah's wife answers, and asks, "Can I help you?" Frack sings out, {to the tune of Camptown Races}"Guess who drowned in the lake to today? DooDah, DooDah."


	5. Welcome, Glacion and Jemima!

**Hello, and sorry for the long wait! There was a problem that resulted in me unable to use the computer for a while. Thank you all to everyone who submitted Tributes, and for keeping up with the story. So, without any further ado, here are YOUR. DISTRICT. ONE. TRIBUUUUUUUUUUTES!**

**Glacion Mallard, age 17**

"Glacion! Come downstairs, breakfast is ready!" I yawned. Mom was calling me down again. I'd been up for a while now, thinking about the animals I wasn't with. Perhaps I should explain. I'm a circus performer in the Panem Circus. I get to travel around the country with my group, and we perform shows. I'm an acrobat, so I get to perform on the flying trapeze and do other things. It's really fun, flying through the air, without a care in the world. I also juggle, usually knives or flaming objects-one time flaming knives. It was kind of scary, but I didn't get hurt. That was the time when we performed for President Snow, about 3 months back. Man, that was nerve-wrecking, having all the elite of Panem watch you risk your life. But they loved it, so we're still around, and that keeps me busy.

I got up and walked downstairs, where I saw my mother taking some bacon out of the oven. Its scent filled my nose, and my stomach rumbled. I guess I was hungrier than I thought.

"Well it's about time you got up! The Reaping's in an hour," she said. That gets me by surprise-I'd forgotten that today was Reaping Day. Since we're in District One, we go first. I really like it here, at my mother's house. It's calmer than you would think, other than the clashing of swords you hear near the Training Center, where most of the kids eligible train. I don't go too often, since I'm usually off with the circus. But I go sometimes when I'm bored during winter or fall, when I'm home with Mom.

After breakfast, which consists of bacon, eggs, hash browns, and two glasses of orange juice, I'm off to go get my Dad, Titan. He's a quiet guy, usually, except when he's mad. He means well, though. My dad is one of the animal tamers, and often is the person who puts his head in the lion's mouth. He trust the animals, but one time he got too comfortable with a tiger, and now he sports a nasty set of scars are his right arm from its claws.

I arrived at the area where the rest of the circus is at. As I thought, Dad is feeding the animals. The smell is a bit much, though, so I'm made my stay quick.

"Hey Dad," I said. He turned around and looked at me.

"Hello, Glacion. What brings you here? Aren't you supposed to be getting ready for the Reapings?"

"Yeah, but Mom wanted you to come home, get cleaned up."

"Alright. Tell her I'll be home in twenty minutes."

"See ya, Dad," I said, walking away. It was a beautiful day it, in all honesty. The sun was shining, not a cloud in the sky, and the birds were chirping. It was almost cliché. Suddenly, I felt a hand on my shoulder.

"Hey, Glacion," a familiar voice said.

"Phobos! How are you?" I asked, turning around. Phobos has been my best friend since I can remember. Although he's a year older than me, we're close. We have to be. He's a fellow acrobat, and he's a jokester to boot.

"I'm great. Happy Hunger Games!" he said to me loudly. "And may the odds…" he says, extending his arms and starting to squat. I walk backwards, then run towards him, aiming towards his joined hands.

"…be ever in your favor," I finish, placing a foot in his hands. He lifts me up and a propel myself off his hands, spinning forward. After a single flip, I land on my feet, bending my knees to take the impact. Then I take a look at my watch. Crap! It was almost time for the Reapings! "Gotta go, Phobos!" I said, then dashed back home.

**Jemima Loisa Colemore, age 17**

"Ginny, wake up." I opened my eyes and saw Kaila standing over me.

"Kaila, what time is it?" I asked, feeling around the bed next to me. No. No Maurie. "Where's Maurie!?" I ask, panicked.

"Relax," Kaila said calmly. "Everyone's downstairs. I brought breakfast for all of you." I sat up and hugged her.

"Kaiani Hitchens, you are officially the most awesome person ever!" I told her, smiling. She's always been nice to me and my family, especially since… I shuddered, remembering. A year ago, my parents were killed right in front of me. They were innocent, but the District thought differently. Now, I live in a mansion at the edge of the populated area, along with my siblings and sometimes Kaila. Maura and Anne, the twins, just turned six, and Lily turned two today. Today. Reaping Day. The day where 24 children are chosen for-or worse, _volunteer _to be in-the Hunger Games. Only one will come back, alive.

"Come on Ginny, let's go downstairs. The kids are waiting." I got out of bed and followed my best friend downstairs. Around the table, I saw everyone eating breakfast. Bagels abounding, I grabbed one with some blueberries in it. The sun was shining through the window-the only window, really. All the others were boarded up to keep animals and cold out, since they were broken. But I guess I couldn't complain, not really, for living on the fringe of the law. As long as I show up for the Reapings and don't cause trouble, I guess the authorities don't have a problem with me living here.

After breakfast, I stand up. "Okay, everyone, today is a special day. Do you know what today is?" I paused, waiting for a reply. "It's Lily birthday!" Lily claps excitedly, though I'm not sure she knows exactly what it means. "Now, we can't do anything super-special, being that we have something to do today, but tomorrow will be lots of fun!" The kids-mainly the twins-hoot excitedly. "Come on upstairs, and we'll pick you all out something nice."

**Glacion Mallard**

Bursting through the door, I run upstairs and pull on a pair of black chinos that Mom had laid out for me. I take off my shirt and grab a white dress shirt, then run downstairs trying to button it.

I ran out of the house and towards the city square, and saw that it was filled with people and decorated lavishly. They really like the Hunger Games here in District One, but I don't care one way or another. They'd be nice to win, though. Fame, fortune, and a life of luxury… That sounds nice, but is it worth 23 lives to earn? Plus, there's always some Tribute that scares me more than the lions, so I don't know how I'd do.

I get into the 17-year-olds section, which isn't that close to the stage where our escort is. I look at the amount of Victors from my District up on stage, which is a lot. The most recent Victor, Leroi Jinkens, looks nervous. He won his Games last year by directly charging his opponents whenever he encountered them, yelling "Two thumbs up, let's do this!" I won't lie, he's a little crazy at times. He's only 16 now, so he was still young and impressionable.

The Mayor gets up, and starts her speech about the Dark Days. I can never remember her name. I drop in and out of paying attention until our strange escort Lillia Raym steps up to the microphone. I notice her strange attire. Her skin is yellow, her hair is yellow, her puffy dress is yellow, and I bet that her eyes are yellow, too. Capitol fashion will never make sense to me. She motions to another person, who brings up two clear bowls filled with paper slips.

"Happy Hunger Games, everyone! And may the odds be _ever_ in your favor," she says, the words sounding foreign to my ears. I will never be wrap my head around the Capitol accent. It just…. Gets to me. "Now, time to choose our lucky girl and guy to have the honor of competing in the Hunger Games! Ladies first." Lillia takes her sweet time moving her hand around in the bowl, slowly pulling her hand out. Unfurling the slip of paper, she called out.

"Shenay Lembe-"

"I volunteer!" a voice calls out. Everyone's head turns towards the seventeen-year-old's section, where the voice came from. I see a tall, slender girl walking towards the front of the stage, and from her gait I can tell she is little nervous.

"Wonderful! What's your name, sweetheart?" asks our escort.

"Jemima Colemore," she says.

"Now for the boys!" Lillia says, and reaches into the other bowl. I won't lie, I'm a little nervous. I'm not in there a lot, but still, the odds are in _anyone_'s favor, myself included. I just can't wait for the sucker who gets called out, so I can go hang out with Phobos, and then tomorrow get back on the road with the circus. She pulls out the slip, and opens the paper.

"Glacion Mallard!" My eyes open widely, but quickly return to normal. I wait for another to call to take my place, but no one does. I walk towards the stage, feeling hundreds of eyes stare at me. When I get next to Lillia, I almost gagged. The scent of something I didn't recognize clogged my nostrils. I managed to keep my composure, though.

"Ladies and gentlemen, your tributes from District One!" the escort said excitedly, and the crowd burst into a wild applause. Jamima and I shook hands, and I looked into her eyes. Cold, steel gray eyes locked with my own baby blues, and I saw that she didn't trust me. She didn't look like she trusted anyone, but that didn't matter. Only one of us was coming home, and I didn't plan on letting it be her. It was my time to shine under the big top.

**Jemima Colemore**

I hold Lily's hand as we walk towards the City Center, where there's already a crowd. Kaila is holding Maura's and Lily's, and we get in the back of a long line.

"Now, Lily, Maurie, Annie Bay, listen up. You need to be on your best behavior today, okay? Promise me that you'll be extra-special good."

"I promise, Jemima."

"I promise, Jemima."

"I prah-miss, 'Mymah," Lily says. It's great to see how good her speech is coming along. During the long wait, Kaila and I discuss what would happen if I were to be chosen for the Games.

"Well, someone would probably just volunteer, anyway," Kaila says.

"Yeah, but still, there's always a chance that—" I start, but she interrupts.

"Don't think about it, Ginny! Besides, I would take care of the kids until you got back."

"You… You really think I'd win?" I ask, thinking it over in my head.

"Of course! You're smart and you have wicked dagger skills. You could just hide until you had to fight. You're also a District 1 girl, so you'll almost _have _to be in the Career pack. You'd have allies, to start with anyway. I think you could do really well! Plus, if you _do_ go in the Games and win, think of all the money you'd get! We could move into a nice house, send the kids to school when they were old enough, and we could finally adopt that cat!" Kaila's little speech inspires me. Maybe, just maybe, I feel a little better about the Games. But there's one thing I need to argue with her against.

"We are _not_ adopting that stupid cat!" I say, and I realize that it's dead quiet. Our Mayor steps up, and I feel embarrassed. I said something stupid, in front of this whole crowd… As the Mayor makes her speech, I keeping shushing the kids, who have been allowed to stand in the seventeen-year-olds' section with me since we have no other family. Kaila, of course, is standing right by me.

"Hey, Colemore, how's the crap-house doing?" I turn around and see Shenay Lemberi, the worst tempered girl in District 1.

"Shut it, Shenay," I tell her. Goodness, gracious, how would she be received in the Capitol? They'd have to kill her before the Games started! I ignore her next comments, and instead focus on our strange yellow guide, Lillia. She's about to call the female Tribute, and I can only hope it's not me or Kaila, or Shenay for that matter. She does NOT need the Hunger Games.

"Shenay Lem—" she begins, but time slows down for me. As I start to yell, I think over a thousand things. Shenay can't go into the Capitol, they'd hate her. We need the money. I can win, and prove the Colemore name to be good, not scandalous.

"I volunteer!" I yell, and quickly regret it. Kaila instantly comes up to me. "Take care of the kids. You can get the cat," I say, then walk towards the stage. When I get to the front, I almost freeze—the crowd is really bothering me. Lillia asks my name.

"Jemima Colemore," I reply, shaking. I stand next to her, looking at the crowd as she calls the boy.

"Glacion Mallard!" A tall, tan boy with spiky pale hair starts to walk to front of the stage. His arms show muscle, and I wonder what he does. I've never seen him before today, but I can from his swagger that he's confident.

"Ladies and gentlemen, your Tributes from District One!" calls Lillia, and Glacion and I shake. I look into his eyes, keeping a cold look. His blue eyes are full of warmth, but there's a certain lack of trust there. I give him the same lack of trust. I don't trust men. As the crown cheers, I can only think of how he'll _not_ be coming back. Sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Mallard, but your son isn't coming back. I am. For Lily, and Maurie, and Annie Bay, and for Kaila. I'll be back real soon.

**And there they are! Thanks to xxxRimaxxx and Rosemarie Benson for these two awesome Tributes. I wish them the best of luck in these Games! Now, please, review and let me know how the chapter was! Good? Bad? Horrible? Great? We won't know unless you review. So, goodbye for now, and may the odds be EVER in your favor!**


	6. The Golden Boy and the Child of a Victor

**Hello, hello, hello. It's….. *checks watch* about 9:13 in the evening. I'm wearing my comfy PJ's, have a can of off-brand Mountain Dew (which I don't own rights to, only cans of!) next to me, and I'm in a creative mood. That can only lead to one thing: The District Two Reapings! But, before we get to them, I'd like to say a few things to some people…**

**mspadfoots: it's not pathetic. I know exactly how you feel, too; I'm like that for some of my favorite stories. And nice pun, even though it wasn't intended.**

**Notthegovernment: You're right, they don't seem like Careers now. Wait till you see them in action, though. They'll show you how much of a Career they are!**

**angelofmusic4ever: Thank you for your kind words! I appreciate it.**

**xxxRimaxxx: Thank you, I'm glad to see that you're pleased to see how I portrayed your Tribute! I feel successful, knowing I conveyed someone's idea into something for everyone to enjoy.**

**Thanks for all the compliments! So here they are, your District Two Tributes…**

**Cas Mason, age 18**

Today's the day. The day I volunteer to compete in the deadly, dangerous, exciting event called the Hunger Games. The day that leads to the payoff of my countless years of training. I'm not going to chicken out like last year. Nope. This year, Cas Mason will volunteer to be another District Two Victor. I feel bad for everyone else in the Games this year, though. Actually thinking that they have a chance? Funny. I almost just laughed right now, thinking that. But if I did, then I'd wake up Mel, the girl beside me. Who is Mel? Just some girl I met at the party last night, the pre-Games party that we _always_ have for the coolest cats at school. Of course, I'm always at them. Everybody loves me, and it's hard to not to. Who doesn't love six feet (and one inch) of muscles, good looks, and pure talent?

Quietly, I slip out of the bed, grab on some clothes, and tiptoe down the hallway. Unlock the door, open the door, and step out. Check. Even with the rising sun, there's still some people passed out on the lawn. I walk down towards the Victor's Village, which is actually a sort of mini-Capitol, there's so many people. There's a lot of houses, and I'm pretty sure that they'll need to build more in a few years. But the only house I pass on the way to my own is the Lewis household. Man, that family is crazy. The dad and two of three daughter have all won the Games, and I'm pretty sure that the youngest will, too. She's nice on the eyes, if you catch my drift, but no way will you catch me forming a relationship. No way, pal. That's not how Cas Mason does things. Committing to a relationship is a man's number one weakness, and I am not weak.

By this point, I'm in front of my own house. Perhaps I should explain-I too live in Victor's Village. That's thanks to my brother Trace. He won the Games four years ago, although it hasn't always been nice. He's all that my parents care about, at least at home. It gets on my nerves, but it won't for long. I'm going to win this year, and with no one after me to come and steal the glory, I'll be set. But for now, at least, I still have all the fangirls at school who throw themselves at me. It's actually pretty funny. Once, there was a big catfight over who got to sit near me at lunch. Some of the girls still have scars….

Inside, I see that the family is up and Mom is making breakfast. Weird. Usually the servants do that. But I guess she's feeling sentimental today, for some reason.

"Well, finally you're home," my dad says sarcastically. "How was the party?"

"Pretty good," I respond, sitting at the table. "We had a lot of fun."

"Sounded like it. I could hear the music from here," Mom says in a sort of complaining-not-complaining voice. "Was there alcohol there?" I tense up slightly. There _was_, but I didn't have any.

"No," I say.

"'No,' there wasn't any there, or 'no,' there was but I didn't have any?" Trace walks in.

"Lemme smell your breath," he says. Before I can protest he's on me, holding open my mouth. "Breathe out," he instructs. I comply, and he inhales. "Well… I can tell you this: that is definitely _not _alcohol," Trace says, smiling. I can feel my face go red a little, because I know he knows what the smell is. Before we can continue, however, Mom comes over with a plate for each of us. Mine is filled with bacon and sausage, and a pile of pancakes. Trace has waffles.

"Eat up, boys, we've got a big day. Trace, make sure you get there early, my handsome Victor! And Cas, well, you know what to do." That last bit is cold, and her gaze is sharper than usual.

"Yes, Mom," I say quietly. But the hollow feeling in me doesn't last long, nor does my breakfast.

**Vivian Lewis, age 18**

It's ten minutes until the Reapings, and honestly, I can't wait much longer. Ever since Astrid had volunteered for the Games, it's only been a big countdown until this year, when Mom and Dad have wanted me to volunteer. "It's only right," they say, for me to be just like my sisters. Maybe it's been too long for them to remember, but Sasha volunteered when _she_ was seventeen. But, there was no point in arguing—all they really cared about was having another Victor in the family. Dad won, and during his Victory Tour, met Mom. Then they had Sasha, and then Astrid, and then me, Vivian. Well, it's a good thing I know that Dad won't be my mentor—that's been banned ever since Dad mentored Sasha and she won. People claimed that she had received extra training, and that had helped give her the edge she needed to win. It was bull, of course, but ever since no family members were allowed to train family members.

"Hazel, is it ever going to start?" I ask her, because I'm getting impatient. Hazel Whitmore is my best friend, and has been forever, it seems. We've been through thick and thin, and the worst was when that jerk Cas Mason acted interested in her, but after a couple days called off, saying that he "wasn't into relationships," or something like that. If he wasn't so full of himself, wasn't such a prick, then maybe I'd forgive him. But no. Everybody loves Cas Mason, the golden boy of District Two. Rumor has it that he'll volunteer this year. They said that last year, but no, he chickened out. Golden Boy was actually ridiculed for a week after the Reapings. If he _does_ volunteer, well, I know that I'll have at least one worthy opponent in the Games.

"Shut up, Vivian! This is only the thousandth time you've asked me!" Hazel complains, but quickly changes voice. "Ooo, look, it's Trace Mason!" she said excitedly, pointing down the road. That would be Cas's older brother. Trace wasn't as bad as Cas, and I actually respect him. Beside Trace, though, was the Mason we dislike the most. He didn't even to dress up that much, just some generic-looking nice-casual clothes. Typical man.

**Cas Mason**

"So, Cas, who was it?" Trace is asking me as we walk down the road. It's about ten minutes until the Reaping ceremony starts, and he needs to be down there to sit with the multitude of District Two Victors.

"Mel Hemson," I tell him, waiting for him to respond.

"Mel Hemson!? That's the _MAYOR'S DAUGHTER! _ How did you… never mind. Hormones and a party. Nice choice. How was she?" he asks, giving an approving look. I grin devilishly, knowing I had done pretty darn good.

"Well, for being easy, pretty good, actually," I tell him. Now, we're close to the stage and the groups of people standing. Some are people hoping to compete, and the rest are spectators to the ceremony. "Oh, well, I guess you gotta go. See ya in the Capitol."

"Train ride," he corrects, then walks up to a spot on stage, next to one of the younger Victors in our district. I go and sign in, then join the rest of the 18-year-old male section. I see my best friend Mark.

"Mark, how's it hanging?" I ask, smacking him upside the head.

"Not bad, you big oaf. How was Mel?"

"Pretty good. Give 'er a try someday. How's your baby brother?"

"Cato? He's good. He just turned six about a week ago." At this point, I need to kill time, so I decide to make fun of Mark.

"He looks just like you."

"No, he doesn't! He's blonde, and I'm dark-haired!" The argument would go on longer, but we're cut short by the Mayor.

**Vivian Lewis**

"Ladies and gentlemen, it is an honor to introduce myself, Rayth Hemson, as your Mayor. Much like all of you, I am excited for the Sixty-Fourth Hunger Games!" The Mayor pauses, and the crowd around me cheers and applauses. I don't. I hate clapping. The Mayor continues, his old voice strong and clear. "However, first, I must read to you…" and then he read to us the boring Treaty of Treason, like usual. Yes, we know that 65ish years ago, the Districts rebelled, blah, and for punishment the Hunger Games were established. Same thing every year. Still boring. You would think that someone would make it more exciting, but no. Finally, the Mayor stepped down, and our Escort came to the microphone. Hilmary Bollmar. She was quite the character. Her hair—in some weird combination of a ponytail and a mullet—was red. Her face was orange, a neon orange. I'm not sure if it was makeup or surgically altered, but she had her share of alterations already. One arm was yellow, and her other was green. I quickly guessed her pattern—a rainbow. I was right; one leg was blue, and the other purple. Her dress-like clothing was also a rainbow, and shimmered.

"Welcome, and Happy Hunger Games! Before we draw the lucky Tributes, I'd just like to wish the odds in everyone's favor!" her shrilly voice rang out over the crowd. A small boy came out holding the bowls filled with paper. "Now, for the girl…" She put her yellow hand into the bowl, moving it around. Finally she stopped, and pulled out a name. Reading it, she began to call out a name. "Ha—" she begins, but there's no way she's finishing it.

"I volunteer as Tribute!" I yell, almost hurting my own ears. Short other bursts of "I" and "I volunteer" quickly die off as the hear me. I walk up to the stage, confident.

"Well, a volunteer. What's your name, sweetie?" Hilmary asks, the _ee_ sound rising in both parts of _sweetie_.

"Vivian Lewis."

"Vivian Lewis, what a name. Tell me, are those your sisters?" she asks, pointing over to where Sasha and Astrid are sitting with the Victors. I nod. "Ah, I see now. Adding another Victor to the family, are we? Now, on to the boy!" This time, her green arm is in the one grabbing a name. After a few moments, Hilmary pulls out the name. I know that whoever gets called won't actually get to be in the Games. The hush that has fallen over the crowd is actually breathtaking. It's dead quiet, and that's surprising. Usually, even a bird or something is making noise. Our escort opens her mouth and begins to pronounce some sound—I couldn't tell you what letter it was—when a voice breaks the dead silence.

"I volunteer as Tribute for District Two!" comes a clear, enthusiastic voice. I freeze. I know that voice. It belongs to the cockiest boy in all of Panem. It belongs to the boy who called it off with Hazel. The Golden Boy, the chicken.

It's Cas Mason's voice.

One though goes through my mind as he walks up to the stage, swagger in his step from years of praise. As he tells Hilmary his name, as the crowd applauses, and as his green eyes lock onto mine while we shake, I think of the ways I'm going to kill him. No matter how I do it, though, his last thought will be of how he never expected Vivian Lewis to be the one to end him. And that will make up for everything.

**So, there they are. I hope that you enjoy these Careers, because they will **_**definitely**_** be Careers. As usual, reviews are nice, and I'd also like to thank mspadfoots and GirlOnFire4 for submitting these great Tributes! I look forward to seeing them in the Arena, and I look forward to seeing all of you wonderful readers at the next chapter. Until then, happy Hunger Games….**

** ….and may the odds be **_**ever**_** in your favor**


	7. Interlude 2: The Host

**Hello! Thank you all again for the positive reviews. It really means a lot to me, because for a while I was nervous—"will people like my writing?" and the likes. But now, I feel confident. Thank you! And now, before we begin, it's time to reply to reviews….**

**Notthegovernment: I see…. The error is noted and I will try to fix it… eventually. And I'm glad to see that you're willing to overlook a cliché. **

**Mindnight Ink and angelofmusic4ever: I'm delighted to hear that you both enjoy my writing. And as for the originality? I can't take credit for that, as much as I'd love to. The creators of the Tributes are the ones to credit for that.**

**And now, onto the show. Today's feature will be a glimpse into the Capitol. Our broadcast today is sponsored by Aperture Laboratories*: We Do What We Must Because We Can.**

As Cas Mason was volunteering for District Two, faraway in the Capitol, a man walked down a corridor. He was nervous, to say the least. It wasn't often that President Snow called for you in the middle of the workday. And he was practically nobody, just a Capitol talk show host. New in the world of TV broadcasting, it had taken a while to get to his position as it was. Years of lowly reporting for the news had finally led to his dream goal: having his own talk show. Still, his show wasn't really that popular, and was doing okay in bringing in celebrities. The most famous person he'd been able to get on his show was a singer, following allegations of domestic abuse. Several weeks later, the singer had been found guilty and was sentenced to being an Avox.

Coming to a door at the end of a hallway, he knocked.

"Come in," replied the voice of the man who ruled Panem. The young man swallowed, and entered the room, closing the door quickly and quietly. "Please, sit," instructed the president. The guest complied.

"Thank you for having me, sir. Um, may I ask why you called for me?" he asked. A million things whizzed through his mind, but he couldn't think of any reason why the President of Panem would want to speak with him.

"Ah, yes. As you are aware, the host for a certain bug event is… preoccupied, you might say. With some, ah, rather long-term tasks." Snow did not need to mention which host for which event; even the Districts knew. The host for the Hunger Games last year had been rather rash in his job. He wasn't really that good, and ended up wasting a lot of the Tributes' time for the past few years. That, and the fact that he made public his dislike for Snow, had been the gentle push to give a reason to give him the old "heave-ho."

"Yes, sir. I recall."

"Now, if I remember correctly, you are a talk show host, are you not?"

"Well, yes I am sir. I'm surprised you know who I am, sir. It's an honor." The young man in Snow's office was suddenly struck with a though. _No way. He can't possibly… he doesn't want ME to host the Hunger Games, does he? No, he doesn't. he probably just wants to ask if there's somebody that I know in the business. _During this moment, he took a quick glance at the president's office. It was very simple, really. There was a flag of Panem of the wall behind him, a few ornate chairs, and his desk, but other than that—nothing fancy. He assumed that there were some buttons, or a control panel hidden, maybe some TVs that came out of the wall. He was surprised by this; one would assume that the president would have a lavish office. _Maybe he keeps all his nice stuff at home._

"My young friend, would you like the honor of hosting the Hunger Games?" Snow had simply asked the question. It was as casual as inviting a friend over for some tea and a chat, or maybe asking what number two was on the homework last night. Snow let the words hang in the air. After several moments, his guest answered.

"It would be an honor, sir."

"Good. I expect great things from you, Mr. Flickerman."

**And there's that! Sorry for the shortness of this chapter, but it will have to do until I write up the District Three Reapings. I might be able to get them up later today, even… Wouldn't that be nice!**

***Aperture is from the Portal series, by Valve. I do not own the rights to it, but I do own both Portal games as physical copies. I find them highly amusing and entertaining, and they are a definite must for anyone who loves to think! **


	8. How a Nerd Met a Mother

**Hello, and welcome to the Aperture Science computer-aided Enrich—Oops, wrong story. Welcome to the 64****th**** Annual Hunger Games! You're just in time for the District Three Reaping ceremony. Shh, it's starting…..**

**Maurice Greyson, age 15** [quick note: anyone else notice that all of the Tributes so far were older?]

"Hey, nerd." That's the first thing that I hear when I get to the town square. It's pre-Reaping ceremony, so there's no need to get into the groups yet. I turn around to see none other than Zanec Mortin, the local jerk. "What's with the girl name, huh, Maurice?" I let out a sigh.

"I've told you before, Zanec: it's NOT a girl name!" I tell him angrily. I doesn't bother me much, when he makes fun of my name—well, not as much as it used to. But that's the past, and besides, it's just him being stupid. Suddenly, in the middle of my thoughts of the past, Zanec puts his hand on my throat and grips. I clutch at his hand, knowing that I can't do anything about it.

"You _told _me, girly boy? You _told_ me? _YOU_ told _ME_?" With every instance of _me_, he grips a little tighter.

"N-n-n-no-o, Zzz-zz-ahnec-kk," I struggle. I know that there will marks on my neck for the next few days.

"Good answer, girly boy. Good answer," relies the bully, and releases my throat while pushing me down. I hit the ground hard, breathing heavily and rubbing my throat. Ow. It hurts, but it's nothing new. Then I hear a smack of human hand hitting human cheek, and it's Zanec who is expressing pain.

"I saw that, Mortin, and next I do… well, Head Peacekeeper Brard has an interest in you, doesn't he?" a voice says, and I can tell who it is. Emily, my older sister. She's my protector at times, and I'll be forever grateful for that. She walks over to me (I'm still on the ground) and offers me her hand. I take it, and I push up as she pulls me up.

"Thanks, Emm. I mean it," I say with gratitude, brushing dirt of my shirt.

"No problem, baby brother. Next time he does that-" she says, pointing at Zanec, who is still rubbing his face. Dang! Emily's hand is imprinted on his right cheek. "-go to the Head Peacekeeper. Promise?"

"Promise, Emm. Now, be good, and I'll see you after the Reapings," she says, and she runs off to who knows where.

"You know, girly boy, for being your sister, Emily is _fiiiine._ She's got quite the—" Zanec starts.

"Oh, come on, Zanec. That's my sister you're talking about, man!" I interrupt. He may pick on me, but I can still talk to him. It's a sort of abusive friendship, but it's really the only one I have, and it barely counts. Sure, there's Emily, but she's my family, and I guess you have to be friends with your family. Then I hear some commotion.

"Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, if you'll all go to your respective places, please," the voice of somebody I don't know comes over the speakers. I head to the fifteen-year old male section, and await for the boring day to begin.

**Eliza Huntington, age 18**

I walk over to the little toddler bed. "Ainsly, wake up," and push her slightly. My beautiful baby, Ainsly, yawns. Well, she's not really a baby at two, more like young toddler, but nevertheless… She rolls over to me, and I pick her up gently. "There we go, Ainsly…" I say, my voice is soft. I hold her so that her head is near my face, I kiss the top of her head, and inhale. _Ahhh. _There's still the lingering scent of a baby's head*****, but it's almost gone. I'll miss that smell, that special smell. It calms me, relaxes me, and helps me forget—if briefly—the condition of life.

You see, I live with my sisters, all five of them. We range in age from twelve to twenty-seven. I am eighteen, so I'm not _quite_ in the middle. And then, of course, there's my daughter Ainsly, so that makes seven of us in the house. Yep, that's right. No Mom, no Dad, nor uncle or aunt to take us in. But since my older sisters have jobs, and Casimma being engaged to a very wealthy man helps a lot too, so I guess life isn't all that bad. I do wish that Mom and Dad were still here, though.

I carry Ainsly downstairs, to where breakfast is being eaten. Eggs and sausage, and there's toast?

"Where did we get toast?" I ask, confused.

"Mister Brard brought some over. He came to get Casimma," my youngest sister Aria tells me. I look and notice that Casimma is gone. "Come, sit and eat, Eliza!"

"I'll take Ainsly for you," Bridget offers me. Bridget, the second-oldest, is twenty-five, and she's really good with Ainsly. When Ainsly gets in trouble, she'll go to Bridget. It's actually kind of funny, but at the same time I don't like the fact that she does that. Maybe it's a parenting thing.

"Thank you _so_ much. I need to shower. It was a long night and Ainsly, well…" I say, motioning at the front of my shirt. It's green from, well, take a guess. At least it was on me, rather than all over her bed.

"EWW!" cry out Sarah and Aria, playfully. I walk over to Bridget, who stands to take Ainsly.

"Now you be good, okay Ainsly? Mommy will be right back," I tell her, and walk towards the stairs. I climb them, and go back into my room. I consider just going back to bed—it was a long night! I'm tired!—but push it aside. I go to my dresser, grab some clothes, and head to the bathroom. Fortunately, it's just across from me and Ainsly's room. I close the door, shed everything, and turn on the water. The warm water covers me, and I let out a moan of enjoyment. For a moment, everything is bliss. It's that moment when you're warm, and the water soothes you, and you can forget about everything in the world; all responsibilities, all problems, all your worries. Then my memory surges, and I'm twelve years old again.

_The sun is shining, and I can see the stage. The escort is oddly dressed—red floral patterns are everywhere, even on her skin. She's reaching into a glass bowl, and pulls out a little slip of paper. Her shrilly, high voice calls out a name._

"_Eliza Huntington!" the crowd murmurs around me. "Oh, boo. It's never fair when a twelve year old gets picked, least of all her," I hear someone say. Suddenly, a voice calls out from the crowd._

"_No! I volunteer! I'll go instead!" Everyone around me turns to see, and I do to. Who would want to save me? I watch as Ainsly Maddison goes up to the stage. She came from the fifteen-year-old section. I've never really gotten to know her, and yet she's volunteered for me?_

I come back to the present, only to remember her funeral. I can remember crying, so much crying, and me talking to her family, saying how sorry I was that they had lost her, and them saying it wasn't my fault. I still feel guilty, and I feel a pang of sadness coming on. No. Not now, Eliza—pull through. The past is the past.

After my shower, I go out to the dining room, where I see everyone dressed up. Aria, Penny (she's the oldest), and Sarah all having similar yellow dresses on.

"Hurry up, Eliza! It's almost time to go!" Bridget tells me, and I run upstairs. I can't find any dress quickly, so I guess a T-shirt and jeans will have to do. Not that it matters, though. I'll be home in a couple of hours. I come back downstairs, where I see Bridget holding Ainsly. She sees me, and starts to clap.

"Momma!" Bridget looks at me, then gives my daughter to me.

"Thanks, Bridget, I owe you one," I say as we head out the door and down towards the town square.

**Maurice Greyson**

The crowd is hushing, and I see that our escort, Blanca Mesh, is finally coming forward. I guess that they finally found her after the speech.

"Ah, hello, everyone. Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favor! So, who wants to meet our Tributes?" the solid white figure asks. She's completely white—everything, head to toe, is a single, uniform shade of white, with the exception of shadows. The crowd doesn't answer the strange woman, so she continues. "I know I do, so without any further delay…" she says, and reaches into a glass bowl. "Ladies first, of course!" she adds, and pulls out a slip.

"Eliza Huntington! Come on up, lucky lady!" I watch as a plainly-dressed girl walks out of the eighteen-year-old section. Dang. Her last year of eligibility, too. I guess the odds weren't in _her_ favor, after all. She looks pretty upset, but then something happens. The voice of a little girl is heard over the silence.

"Momma? Momma?" The crowd awes, and suddenly I remember something I heard at school one day. That was _the _Eliza, the girl who had gotten pregnant a few years ago and had never been back to school since. I guess that the father had left. Some guy named 'Fray' or something. Wow. I looked over at Zanec, and even he looked a little troubled by this. Then the sobbing began. Eliza dropped to the ground, crying hard. I feel bad for her. Then I see a Peacekeeper, and I realize that it's Head Peacekeeper Brard. He picks her up, and it looks like he's saying something to her. Now that I think about it, I realize that I know that they're connected, too. Her sister, Cassidy I think, is engaged to his brother, who happens to be very rich.

Finally, after what seems like a long while, Eliza is onstage.

"Oh, my, wasn't that heartbreaking?" Blanca asks, and you can tell that she is even touched. "Poor thing. But, now let's see the boy!" she says, and reaches into the other bowl. It takes me a moment to realize the name she calls out.

"Maurice Greyson!" Crap. Crap, crap, crap, crap. How will I finish my studies now? I walk to the stage, slowly accepting my fate. The odds are at least 48 to 1 in my favor, and _that's_ with some generous rounding. This will be exciting, although I practically know I won't ever get to go home again. Might as well make the most of it. But as I head onto the stage and the audience claps somberly, I look into Eliza's tear-filled eyes. When we shake, she looks into mine. I feel so bad for her, and I do something that I've never seen before. I bring her towards me for a hug. The applause picks up greatly, and I know instantly that this will be big in the Capitol.

"Thank you," I hear Eliza whisper. Why, I don't know. But I do know one thing as we are taken into the visiting rooms.

I've made a friend.

**So, the touchy-feely-emotion-filled Reaping is from District Three. Not how I originally planned it, but… I like where it went, I hope you all did, too. Sorry this one's kind of short. I know I wrote more for Maurice, but I feel that I added a little bit more detail to Eliza. Thank you to the creators of these two wonderful Tributes, and good luck to them in the Games. And, as always, thanks for all the support! See you next time.**


	9. Children of the Sea District

**Hey, hey, hey! Welcome to District Four! Sorry about the long wait. Really, I am. It's just that I've been busy, and I wasn't sure on how I wanted to do this chapter, and….. Ah, I love visiting this District. Do you smell that? That's a sea breeze. Do you feel that sand? It's warm, comforting, isn't it? Makes you almost forget that you're in a world where children are brought together, once a year, to fight and kill each other for a country to watch and enjoy.**

**Killjoy, aren't I.**

**So, once again thank you to reviewers and supporters! Without all of you, this story would not be possible. *alarm sounds* Oh, sorry, got to go. This is my stop, so I'll be getting off here. Enjoy the rest of the train ride. You still have a while until you get to the Capitol, so sit tight and relax.**

**Jaspróe Kings, age 17**

Before anyone asks me, it's pronounced JAZZ-PRO. Got it? I'm not explaining it again. I've had to explain it all my life, and it's gotten pretty annoying. And don't ask me about the accent; I don't know why it's there, it just is.

So, that's all cleared up. Don't ask again. So where am I now? I'm on the beach, alone. I suppose, in a while, I'll have to go to the Reaping ceremony, but that's not pressing. Currently, I'm thinking about my family. I'm not related to a single one of them. Yes, I'm adopted. I don't know much about my real parents. The only thing I have to remind myself of them is my name and this golden hair clip that I have here, in my hand. It was my mothers. My only real memory is of her, and it's vague. She was kind, always laughing and smiling. Other than that… nothing.

"Hey, Jaspróe." I turn around to see who it is, even though I already know. Cole McFarland, a friend of mine. I use "friend" loosely, as I don't really associate a lot with others. I prefer my own company, but he's one of the few people I don't mind, along with Greg Koviowski, Marshall Mithes, and Melody Oceana. Melody, I know her the least, but she's nice enough. The girl is a crazy good fisherman (**AN: would that make her a fisherwoman?**) to the point where you could give her almost anything, and she could catch a fish with it.

"Hello, Cole. How are you?" I ask him, without much emotion.

"I'm good."

"And the rest of you?" The rest of them replied similarly. "That is good. What brings you out here?"

"We came to get you. It's almost time for the Reaping, you know." Ah. That would be Melody. She has a soft voice, but don't let that fool you. She's disarmed every single trainer in the Academy. With a trident. And an axe. Each twice.

"So it is. Let's go, then," I say to our small group of friends. It's quite the walk, so we walk rather quickly. Walking in the back, I notice towards the end of our walk that Melody is wearing rather short jean shorts. My eyes drift and—SMACK! I rub the back of my head, and look to see who it was. Of course, it's Marshall.

"Now, now, Jaspóe…." He says to me, grinning.

"Hey, listen you, you are JUST as guilty as I am," I tell him, smiling. It's rare that this happens, me smiling.

"Yeah, but _you're_ the one who's been caught." He grins even larger. "Hey, Melodyyyyy," he says quickly, but holding out the 'ee' sound. "Guess what? Jaspr—" he starts, but stops when Melody turns to look at him. There's a look in her eyes that tells you that maybe she doesn't want to hear it.

"Yes?"

"Never mind." His face glows red. What's this? He looks embarrassed… No, wait, he looks more nervous than anything… I gasp quietly. Suddenly, Melody stops.

"Crap! Guys, go on ahead. I have to go home and get something real quick. Go on without me, and I'll meet you there," she says. The rest of us mutter agreement, and she runs off down a street close by.

"So, Marshall," I say when she's out of sight. "Why didn't you tell us you had a crush on Melody?" Immediately, Cole and Greg turn towards Marshall, and we stop walking.

"Ooooooo-ooooooo, Marshall," they tease, their voices mocking the preppy girls at our school. "Marshall and Melody," they start to say in a sing-songy voice.

"Guys, I don't—" Marshall starts to argue, his face turning a deep red, but no amount of arguing and denying will make them stop.

"Sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G," Cole and Greg continue.

"Whatever, guys." Marshall hits me in the shoulder, hard.

"OW! What was that for?" I ask (and shamefully I will admit that I sound like a whiny kid) him.

"For telling _those_ two idiots. Do you know how long they'll be doing that?" Marshall asks me, also sounding whiny.

"Yes, and that's EXACTLY why I did it, too," I tell him. "Also, you're not denying it."

**Melody Oceana, age 17**

After I leave Jaspróe and the others, I start to run home. It doesn't take me long to get there, since I'm a fast runner. I burst into the door.

"Dad, I'm home!" I yell. "Time to go to the Reaping!" I walk into the dark living room. Dad, as usual, is laying down on the couch. He groans as he sits up, indicating that he's been sleeping.

"Ugggnnnh."

"Come on, Dad!" I tell him, shaking him by his shoulders.

"Ugn! Stahppit! I'm up!" he complains. "Get your sisters ready. I'll be leaving in a few," and with that, he stands up, going to his room down the hallway. I walk towards the other part of the house, where our rooms are. Stepping into my sisters' room, I see them already dressed up.

"Fantasia, Erika, you two ready?" I ask.

"Melody, you're home! Yes, we're ready," answers Fantasia. Her dress is yellow, and comes to below her knees. Erika's, however, disappoints me. Green, it comes down to her mid-thigh.

"Oh, no you don't, Erika. That is too short for a thirteen-year-old," I tell her. "Put something else on, at least jeans."

"What!?" she says, pouting. "This is _not_ too short! And besides, look at you! Your shorts are super short!"

"Yes, but _I'm_ seventeen. It's okay if I wear it. You, however, are young, and not allowed to wear short dresses. I'm older, and allowed to wear short jean shorts. So, change quickly. We need to hurry!" I tell her, the final word. "Come on, Fantasia," I say, and she follows me into the front room, where Dad is brushing crumbs off of his shirt. Hmm. I gues it'll do for him, considering he's not going to the Capitol. Well, neither am I, hopefully, but he's not at risk.

"Almost ready, Melody," my father tells me. Good. Moments later, Erika comes out, wearing a nice green shirt with tight jeans. It's better, but still…

"Okay, let's go!" I say, and we all squeeze out the door, rushing to get out of the door. Walking to the Reaping Ceremony, I wonder about Jaspróe. He's an odd person at times, but he's pretty nice when you get to know him. I honestly can't say we're good friends, but we get along. And he doesn't make perverted jokes like Marshall, Greg, and Cole.

When we arrive and Dad goes to the adult area, Erika, Fantasia, and I all sign in and stand in our respective age group areas. After the most boring video that we see every single year, Peter Twen, our Capitol Escourt (The "official" title. I don't even know why there's an extra 'u' in there. It's weird!) comes to the microphone, and he delivers some silly speech about how wonderful it is to be in District Four again. Honestly, he doesn't need to say that. He's here during the summer, anyway, when it's nice and wonderful. I saw him the other day.

"And now, it's time for the Tributes! This year, I'd like to shake it up a little, and pick the boys first!" He reaches into the bowl, and eventually picks out a name. "And now, without further ado—whatever ado is—" he jokes, making the audience groan. He says this _every freaking year._ It's not even that funny the first time. "—Jaspróe Kings, please come on up!" I look over at him, and he looks okay, but something tells me he's not. Call it…. an instinct of some sort. He walks up to the stage. When he gets up there, he looks Peter dead in the eyes, and says, "It's Jazz-pro. Not Jass-prwo."

"Thank you, Jazz-pro," says Peter, emphasizing the _zz_ sound, "for correcting me. But now, for your girl, District Four!" And again, his hand goes into the bowl, and this time I'm worried.

**Jaspróe Kings**

_This can't be happening. Not to me. Please, anyone but me_, I think in vain. Nobody will volunteer for me. On the outside, of course, I look calm. Everything from this point out will be used to judge me, to determine if I'm worth sponsoring. So I may be shaken, but I have to look relaxed. After correcting our stupid escort about my name, what follows almost shatters my concentration.

"Melody Oceana! Please, come to the stage!" Oh no. Poor Marshall. The kid might have had a chance with her, if he had just acted mature. But now, he can't. Unless she wins. Which she may, but that means that… Then…. I have to die. And as much I like Marshall, I'm not dying for Melody. I'm oblivious to the rest of the world as Melody and I shake hands. I give her an attempt at a sorrowful look, and she returns it, because we both know that only one of us to come home, assuming it is either of us who wins. And it won't be her.

I have unfinished business. See, remember how I'm adopted? Well, I've been searching for my birth parents. I need to find them, tell them I'm sorry for whatever I did that made them get rid of me. Chances are, I'll never know. But I guess I was never meant to. I can spend the rest of my life preparing for its end, which will probably happen soon. Maybe I'll meet a Tribute who deserves to win, and help them. Oh well, there'll be plenty of time later to think about that. Right now, I can look forward to intense luxury on the train, which I _definitely_ plan on taking advantage of.

**Melody Oceana**

Me and Jaspróe. We're the Tributes. My mind keeps obsessing over this fact, despite already knowing it. The fact that I know him decently enough will make it harder when he dies. It may even be me who kills him. But I really hope not. He's a good guy, but I guess that the odds aren't in his favor. Thinking over this, I look out to the crowd, and that's when I see Dad. I almost break down right there. Oh, my poor father, losing yet another child to the damn Games. I have to win, I decide. To keep him sober, and so that Erika and Fantasia will have their big sister. I can't imagine the devastation if I die.

I'm going to win the Sixty-Fourth Annual Hunger Games. I will. I'll kill anyone who gets in my way, and now it's time to start acting like it. Goodbye, Miss Nice-Girl. Here comes Melody Oceana, with a trident ready to strike. Let's do this, Panem.

**And there you go, your Tributes from District 4! Thank you to the two who submitted these amazing Tributes! Again, sorry for the long wait, and chances are it will be a little while before the next chapter. Maybe I'll make another filler chapter. Also, I'm curious, how are you all enjoying the interludes? I really like writing them, because I get to introduce all sort of neat stuff without telling the Tributes! *SMACK—OW!* Hey, what was that for, Melody? **_**That was for giving me a short second part. And also because we don't find out what happens in the interludes. **_** Well, I better go before she beats me up. Also, quick self-advertisement, please check out my other story "The Problems Caused by Control Freak," if you have time. Shameful self-advertisement, I know. It's a Teen Titans/Portal crossover, and I plan on updating it soon! **

**One last bit, I'm going to start yet another story or two, but they'll be side projects until this is completely done. Go to my profile to see what they're about, and PM if you think they're good!**

**Or not. It depends. You don't have to. Bye, y'all!**


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